The Case of the Third Eye Sapphire
by Bra1n1ac
Summary: It's been a long time since Sherlock Holmes last crossed swords with the woman named Irene Adler, whom he really respected. However, when they meet up again at the center of a theft case, what will Miss Adler's role be?


A few words before you start reading. This story only has one chapter and I won't be expanding on it. It's a crossover... sorta. Although all the characters in this story are from Sherlock Holmes, and I've done my best to duplicate the terminology and writing style of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, whom I have the utmost respect for as a writer. If you like the idea of Holmes encountering something somewhat supernatural in a case, this story is probably for you. If you like watching Holmes struggle against a worthy opponent, read on. However, the real reason I wrote this story is because someone brought it to my attention that the name "Irene Adler" was recognized in comic books as well as fine literature, so this is a story to help bridge the gap somewhat. Enjoy.

* * *

The Case of the Third Eye Sapphire

* * *

In the records which I've kept and the accounts that I have published on the subject of the many mysteries and crimes that my friend; Sherlock Holmes has helped to unravel, I fear that I have faced a great many obstacles when it comes to chronological accuracy. No doubt some of my more observant readers will have noticed, as do I, in retrospect, the somewhat inconsistent accounts of my own time spent at Baker Street. This problem has been further muddled, I fear, by my admittedly imperfect memory in these matters, though I have always tried to keep clear notes on the pivotal facts of each of the cases that particularly demonstrated the astonishing skills for which my good friend was so well known throughout England at the time.

Unfortunately, these have not been the only obstacles with respect to the arranging of my notes on various cases, and I fear that a true chronology of my friend's career as a private consulting detective, even were I to attempt such an exhaustive thing, would be impossible. One of the things that has made this difficult is that the dates in my case notes are forever conflicting with publication dates, because of the fact that many of the cases have needed to be kept a secret from the public until such time as their unveiling would do no harm to any person that had been involved in the affairs at the time. There are dozens of cases of that nature which I fear may never see the light of day, lest they cause a dreadful scandal to a well-respected figure, and compromise the legendary confidentiality for which my friend was also known.

However, I find, as time passes, that it becomes difficult to remember the specifics of the cases documented in my notes, even when I read them to myself in the silence of my own home. For this reason, I have decided to write down the events surrounding the few of these cases that I still remember clearly, and keep them securely in the locked drawer of my desk until their contents are no longer a danger to any living person.

It was slightly more than two years after my marriage, just as autumn was beginning that I received a telegram from my old friend, which bore only the words "if the lady of the house will permit it, I should be glad to have your company tomorrow at ten in the morning."

At the time, it had been nearly three months since my last correspondence with my old friend, so Mary had little to say against me going to meet with him for one day. She, like myself, had much respect for Holmes, and was never hungry for attention at home, so I had the opportunity, the following day, to drop by my old friend's apartment at 221B Baker Street and learn what sort of matter had required my attention after so long a silence on, it must be admitted, both his part and my own.

Very shortly, I was let into my friend's room, and there I found him leafing through one of the periodicals which he had made a habit of examining from time to time when he was at a loss for anything else to occupy his thoughts. As it happened, however, my friend's aimlessness was destined to be short-lived. The moment that I walked into the room, I received some of his attention, though he certainly did not discard his periodical completely.

"Watson." Holmes said by way of greeting, "I'm pleased to see that you could spare time to join me today. It mustn't be easy, given how busy you have been at your practice. I'm sorry to see that so many have needed your surgical skills."

No man has suffered through as many of the rapid, astonishing deductions of Sherlock Holmes as I have, but I must confess that I had some difficulty working out how he'd deduced those facts about my recent life.

"I know you too well to suppose that you have found that out by a recent visit to my country practice." I remarked to him with no hint in my voice of the bafflement that I was feeling.

"Yet you still do not understand how I've drawn that conclusion." Holmes observed, sounding astonished, "Really, Watson. Surely you know my methods well enough by now."

I admit that being unable to perform a full examination of myself, I could not freely see the evidence that my friend had noticed so quickly, but a glance in the nearest mirror revealed at least part of it.

"It is the newness of my jacket." I guessed at last, though in truth, I was uncertain what evidence he had used for his deductions, "I wore this same jacket when you saw me last, and it still looks as stiff as when it was bought. From that, you must have inferred that I had worn it only infrequently, in those times when I was not working on a needy patient."

Holmes, however, had begun to shake his head midway through my last sentence, and it seemed clear that he was, at least, nearly ready to explain himself.

"All of that was evidence in its own way, to be sure," Holmes admitted, "and all of it reinforces what I already knew, but by itself, it proves nothing. After all, you might have kept this jacket only for special outings and worn it on very few other occasions for that reason. No, Watson. The callouses of your fingers and the development of the muscles in your arms told me a great deal more about the quantity of work you had done with them recently, and of course, knowing you as I do, it was hardly a challenge to determine what kinds of work you might have been busy with, which would require such strenuous exercise of your arms and fingertips alike."

"I may never learn to master that astonishing technique of observation as you have," I admitted a bit wryly, "but I do, at least, know it well enough to deduce that after three long months of silence, you have invited me here for a reason other than tea."

Holmes seemed to chuckle at that moment, though it was partly out of satisfaction over having amazed me and partly from some humor, which he saw in the situation.

"Yes." Holmes replied to my observation the very moment that his laughter ceased, "I must apologize if my silence has caused you grief, but, like yourself, I have been largely preoccupied by matters of business since before summer ended. Still, I thought that this might be an ideal opportunity to mix business with pleasure, as they say, for both of us. I am expecting a... Yes, by Jove! Here comes the inspector now. Mister Gregson clearly has a case to set before us, and I am much mistaken if it will not lead us out of London for at least one afternoon."

Soon, Tobias Gregson had entered the sitting room, looking as stern and serious as ever, though he typically wore an expression of some nervousness when he approached my friend with a problem that he himself had been unable to resolve. In that instance, however, every sign of nervousness was surprisingly absent from the Scotland Yard detective's face, as if he knew the secret of the case and had merely stopped by to boast about it.

"Good morning, Holmes." Gregson said pleasantly, and seemed surprised to see me as well, adding, "Ah, Doctor Watson. Visiting your friend for today?"

"Yes." I replied with a nod, "Have you come to interrupt our little reunion, or to join in it?"

"I fear I have little time to interrupt anything." Gregson replied with a frown, turning to face Holmes "I only stopped by to bring a recent crime to Holmes' attention. It seems an obvious enough thing to resolve, but I thought that you might find it interesting, as it's hardly an ordinary case."

Holmes was smiling by that point, clearly eager for whatever Gregson was about to throw in his direction. He would either declare the case a waste of time and solve it on the spot, or else my friend would take an interest in it and agree to investigate it himself. I knew him well enough already to predict that.

"Well then, inspector..." Holmes said, offering Gregson a seat in a nearby armchair, "Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the circumstances that bring you here on so inconvenient a morning."

Gregson seemed a bit indignant, but I could tell that my friend knew something of the case already and was feigning disinterest for his own amusement. I had known him to do that in the past, though the frequency with which it was tolerated by the police detectives spoke volumes about Holmes' usefulness to them.

"It's a little matter out in Devonshire..." Gregson remarked with a brief nod of his head, "There's been robbery committed. The object of the theft was a priceless gemstone called the Third Eye Sapphire, worth many thousands of pounds. I can say for certain that there's no other gem like it in the world, as it formed in the shape of an eye along one side because of ridges in the rocks it was found in. Because its formation was natural, rather than being made by man, it is seen as a novelty item, and as such, worth even more than its ordinary price as a gemstone if sold to the right collector."

"It has also been the object of many thefts and attempted thefts through the years." Holmes added, "In at least two instances, the owner of the gem was badly wounded by the perpetrator while attempting to steal the gemstone. Needless to say, it is not a possession which I should like to have, though it might make it more likely that local criminals and robbers would walk right into my hands in pursuit of it. The Third Eye Sapphire has been a magnet for all manner of wickedness over the years. I have yet to see a genuine curse in my study of crime, but that gemstone seems to do mainly ill to those who possess it."

"You seem to know a great deal about this situation already." Gregson admitted, looking a little irritated. I could see in his face the jealousy of my friend's knowledge and skill.

"Oh, hardly, inspector." Holmes replied, "My knowledge of this particular case is still extremely limited. I only recite the previous crimes in which the Third Eye Sapphire has been involved. They have been many and varied. One might learn a great deal about the history of crime simply by studying the events connected with the gem you speak of."

Gregson had recovered his composure only a second later, however, and began his explanation of the case that lay before us.

"For some time, anyway," Gregson said, "the sapphire has neglected to curse its most recent owner; a wealthy gentleman named Lawrence Cook. He's had the gem in his possession since the passing away of his father without incident, but just two nights ago, he heard the clamber of someone moving about in the trophy room in which he kept it. It was late at night, and the house staff was forbidden from entering that room during those late hours. Mister Cook claims to have leapt from his bed and rushed to the trophy room as soon as he heard the noise, but it must have been several seconds before he could reach that room, as it's two rooms and a hallway from his own bedchamber. That would have given the thief the time that they needed to at least escape the room. When Cook examined that room, he discovered that the sapphire had gone missing."

"Cook raised the alarm at once, and a search of the whole house was conducted by the staff, but no sign of the gem was found. What was found, as luck would have it, by Cook himself, was a spot near one edge of the hallway opposite the trophy room. There were large windows along the south side of that hallway, looking out onto the lake that the mansion bordered. One was open, and a rope was found with knots in it for climbing, or rather, two halves of a rope were found. About six feet of rope were attached to a sturdy support pole just above the open window, at which point it seemed to have been cut off. The rest was lying on the ground. If the two halves had still been attached to each other, there would definitely have been enough to climb three stories up to the window, which could provide access to the trophy room and the valuable, if ill-fated gemstone inside."

Holmes had been listening intently to the entire story, and he shook his head sadly when Gregson had explained the circumstances surrounding the rope.

"It seems a roundabout means of getting one's hands on a precious gem." Holmes admitted, "Might it not be easier to simply pose as Mr. Cook's friend and take it while his back was turned?"

"When I said..." Gregson replied, "that he forbade even his staff from entering that room past a certain hour, I should also have included the face that the room had only two entrances, both of which he kept locked the majority of the time. He had a key, as did the maid and the butler, but no one else."

"And both doors had the same kind of lock?"

"Yes."

Holmes seemed to spend a few moments pondering the situation before he spoke up again, allowing some of his interest in the case to show at last.

"You've said that the facts of this case are plain." Holmes said, "I take it, then, that you have already formed your own theory as to where the gemstone is as well as to the identity of the guilty party."

"I am convinced that there were two guilty parties at least, neither of whom trusted the other." Gregson explained, "One had only the job of attaching the rope and opening the window. Then the second party would climb the rope, break into the trophy room, steal the gemstone and climb back down to the ground. However, for some reason, the first party chose to betray the second; possibly out of greed or perhaps it was simple distrust. The rope was cut by the first party and the second fell to the ground. The first party then rushed downstairs in the chaos as the house was being searched and at that point, discovered that suspect number two was still alive. The two had a brief argument over the attempted betrayal, but soon realized that it would be in their best interests not to fight, lest they both be discovered in the scouring of the house by the staff. In the end, they knew that there was not enough time to make off with the gemstone, since one of them would be searched shortly, and the other would be apprehended on the road if he tried to take the sapphire just then, so they decided to hide the gem and return for it later. I am quite confident that we'll find the sapphire at the bottom of the lake if we search hard enough, and then the case will be complete."

Holmes seemed to be grinning in that knowing, arrogant way that I have remarked upon in the past, however, when he spoke next, he sounded more curious than triumphant.

"A fascinating theory." Holmes admitted, "No doubt some of it will prove to be accurate enough. Tell me, though... If the first party was such a bold criminal as to betray the second, why did he or she not simply take the sapphire themselves, since they clearly had greater access to both the house and the trophy room?"

"It's possible that they were a member of the staff, and were simply more inclined to betray a criminal than their own employer." Gregson admitted, "It could also be that they hoped the crime could be carried out without any danger to themselves or their position, and wanted to be clear of the trophy room when the crime was actually committed. They then changed their minds when they realized that the second party might betray them at any moment. These kinds of criminal motivations are surely well known to you, Holmes."

By that point, however, Holmes was rubbing his hands together in delight. He seemed to have developed a powerful interest in the case, and was smiling brightly as he said "A few more questions, then. First, do any of the staff have rooms that are against the south wall?"

"Yes." Gregson replied, "Both the maid and the coachman have residences along that side of the house."

"What are their names?"

"The coachman's name is Arthur McDermott. He's a fairly short fellow with well-clipped whiskers on his chin and short, black hair. The maid's name is Irene Adler. She's rather a fair young lady with light brown hair that she does up in a bun, but she would hardly ever look me in the eyes while we talked. Frankly, Holmes, if I had to pick one person on staff who I thought might have been the first party, it would be her. She seemed to be acting very suspiciously."

However, at the mention of the maid's name, Holmes' expression took on the same look of hawk-like alertness to which I've so often alluded in the past, and I knew the reason why. No woman had ever impressed Holmes as Miss Adler had, as faithful readers may remember from my account of the near-scandal of the Bohemian king many years ago. He quickly recovered, however, realizing, as I did, that the Irene Adler of Cook's household must not have been the same one whom he'd underestimated so early in his career. Still, if there had been any doubt as to whether or not he would investigate the case himself, that woman's name had removed it.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, inspector." Holmes said with a wry smile, "I will be sure to stop by at my earliest convenience."

After rising to shake Gregson's hand, however, and watching him leave by the sitting room door, Holmes collapsed back into his armchair, shaking his head with a much more severe expression than I was used to seeing in those moments when, I knew, he had scored a point against one of the Scotland Yard detectives.

"That was unreasonable." Holmes muttered after a few moments, "Simply ludicrous, in fact. I have ribbed Gregson much for his past failures, Watson, but in this case, it's seems that he has been so eager to resolve the case that he has done exceptionally poorly. You must have seen the numerous flaws in his theory."

"I saw one major flaw." I admitted, "If the first party were cutting the rope, he would have been more likely to cut it a foot or a foot and a half from its top, rather than six feet. His reach must have been impossibly long to manage that, and what would be the point of reaching down that far out of an open window?"

"Yes." Holmes replied with a nod, "That was the most obvious flaw to his argument, but there were others. For instance, the two possible motivations that Gregson gave for the first party betraying the second. If his loyalty was truly greater to Cook than to the burglar, would he not have refused to help the robber in the first place? Very few men take such action or risk so much unless they are at their wit's end and are growing desperate. Then comes the idea that he changed his mind midway through the proceedings, which is far less absurd, but still unlikely. I doubt that the members of Cook's staff are inclined to carry around a pocket knife wherever they go, and if not, how could the rope be cut? Unless there was something sharp at hand in the hallway, our mysterious first party must have changed not only his mind, but the contents of his pockets in order to accomplish that feat. One can hardly cut a rope thick enough to bear a person's weight with one's teeth."

"Of course, the biggest reason why the theory was ludicrous is that no one heard the body fall. Strong men can survive a two-story fall with only a few bruises, Watson. That I freely admit. However, if he fell near the south wall, even on the damp soil beside a lake, the noise would have gotten the attention of everyone nearby; particularly the two staff members who had bed chambers along that wall. No, Watson. I think that we can dismiss Mister Gregson's theory out of hand."

"So what do you think, Holmes?" I asked, "What is your explanation for all of this?"

"I cannot prove anything without firsthand evidence." Holmes admitted, "However, I suspect that the entire thing was arranged as a blind. It would not have been difficult to do at all. One merely cuts a rope in half, leaves one end lying below the window, ties the other to an outcropping just above the window, opens the window and walks away. No further effort is required. Just like that, the blind is established. Of course, I should be more certain of that once I have had the chance to examine the ground below the window. If I am right, and the rope was never used for climbing, there should be no markings in the damp soil around the lake, except those of observers and investigators. Of course, knowing that something is a blind and tracking down the real criminal are two separate things. We shall be required to do more than see through this crook's shortsighted attempts at fooling us if we are to actually lay our hands on him."

I just nodded in amazement. It hadn't occurred to me to question the motivations and methods of Gregson's "first party," but as always, with Sherlock Holmes, his reasoning became perfectly clear and obvious once he had explained it. I never ceased to be in awe of him, no matter how long we knew each other, because there were things about him, I knew, that I might never understand. Even as he put on his coat and stuck a fresh cigar into its pocket, for example, I had no way of knowing whether Holmes was attracted to the case merely for the sake of having a laugh at Gregson's expense, or because he was eager to discover whether Cook's maid was the same Irene Adler who had once outwitted him. It was a mystery which Holmes kept from me, in spite of our friendship.

* * *

I had already committed to spend the day with my old friend, and I certainly had no intention of refusing another chance to witness the amazing work at which he was so talented and by which he had become so feared among the criminal underworld. So often had that very thing happened in the past that, without any words passing between us, I soon found myself riding with Holmes in a hansom in the direction of Devonshire. As usual, he chatted with me freely about musical compositions and pieces that he particularly enjoyed hearing, paying no mind at all to the case until we had arrived at the very mansion that had so recently suffered the loss of the somewhat infamous sapphire.

A few constables were still present on the grounds as Gregson was performing his own investigation, but Holmes paid them no heed, nor did he even enter the house at first. Instead, he walked around the building until he saw the bit of rope, still laying on the ground in a pile. Holmes spared only a glance at the rope itself before he began to make further progress,examining the ground around the rope for several feet. At last, he gave a cry of delight and turned to me with a smile on his face, pointing to the ground at our feet. There were many footprints in that place, but I began to see what Holmes had discovered. There was a large outline in the ground there, closely resembling the shape of a human body, lying on its back.

"A person lay here." I noted, "This is certainly evidence, though not the type you were searching for. I daresay this evidence seems to favor Gregson's theory over yours, had we not discarded it already for other reasons."

"Oh, hardly, Watson. Hardly." Holmes replied with a smile and a wave, "Look at the indentation carefully. Even with all these footprints all over it, muddling it up, it should be a good half inch deeper if a person had fallen from near that window. No, my friend. This indentation was made by someone deliberately lying down on the ground near the rope. I am now entirely convinced that the whole thing was set up as a blind. Furthermore, I now have an outline of the height and shape of at least one of the persons involved; a woman, from the looks of things. This person, whoever they were, clearly put their full effort into the blind, but if we fail to track them down, it will be entirely my own fault."

Holmes was still muttering and chuckling to himself as he moved around the white-painted edge of the house and towards the house's front entrance, where a constable was stationed. He recognized us almost at once, however, and admitted us, Gregson having informed him that we might arrive at any time.

The large, oaken doors of the mansion opened into a short hallway with a wooden staircase leading up towards the second floor across from the entrance and several doors along the walls to the left and right, which clearly led into other rooms of the mansion. Though it was the only room of that structure which I'd yet visited, the entire place seemed to send out a clear message of great wealth as well as some ostentation. It was difficult to even enter that room without wondering what Mister Cook's family had done to afford such an impressive dwelling, though I will admit to having seen larger and more impressive mansions. Holmes took in the front hallway of Cook's house with a mere glance, but I could see a look of some interest forming on his features, as some new possibility revealed itself to his keenly logical mind.

Soon, however, Gregson had descended the stairs, traveling in our direction. He'd clearly seen us as we'd approached the front door, and there was a smile of plain confidence on his face.

"I'm glad you decided to come down, Mister Holmes." Gregson said, "I'd been worried that you might consider a case like this one too pedestrian for you."

"I may yet find this case to be an interesting one." Holmes admitted.

"You may indeed." Gregson said, "We're still gathering information, but we're on the verge of making arrests regarding this case. Miss Adler; the maid, seems the most likely suspect for the moment. I suspect she'll have the answers we need, and be able to let us in on the identity of the thief."

"Hmm?" Holmes asked in an absent-minded fashion, "Oh, yes. Your first and second parties. Apologies, Inspector Gregson. I'd completely forgotten about that. You see, I've been pursuing an entirely different line of investigations. Perhaps I have fallen somewhere off the track that you have kindly laid down for me. I have no doubt, however, that the facts of this case will become plain soon enough."

"Indeed." Gregson replied with a broad grin on his face, "This investigation has been a lengthy one, but thus far, the whole thing has seemed fairly straightforward. You may soon see, Mister Holmes, that the tried and true methods do not always produce false results."

Holmes gave a genial, if somewhat sarcastic nod before speaking again.

"I fear you'll need to humor me, however, inspector, for I have yet to see the evidence that you speak of. The hallway, for instance, and the trophy room itself, may yet yield clues that I might appreciate."

Gregson responded with a brief nod, and in just a moment, he'd turned and was leading us back up the stairway that he'd so recently descended by. In moments, we were ascending those fresh, wooden stairs, passing down another hallway and traveling up yet another flight of steps until we arrived an an area in which two constables were stationed. There was a central hallway that bent around through the middle of the house into an L-shape, turning to cover much of the south wall. There, one right after the other, were three large windows facing south. Of the three, the middle one was open, and it was from there that the rope could be seen; attached to a support just over the window and descending to down below the windowsill. There were a few paintings on the walls of that hallway, but nothing that looked particularly expensive was hung there. The windows had only small blinds of no more than four and a half feet in length from top to bottom; just enough to cover the window itself when drawn closed. There were no other decorations nearby, which seemed to have drawn some interest from Holmes, though he spared the sight of the hallway little more than a glance before he seemed to be satisfied.

"Yes." he said, "Some parts of this case seem clear enough, though catching the thief, recovering the gemstone and proving that a theft occurred may demand a bit of work. I should like a brief look at the trophy room itself, Gregson, so as to have a clearer idea of what happened at the moment the crime was committed."

Gregson just nodded, and in a short time, he'd led us through the door nearest to the open window. There were many shelves and tables in that room, with beautiful items all over them; sculptures, articles of jewelery and other works of art dominated the flat surfaces in that room, while several impressive paintings were hung on the few bare walls.

"My word..." I remarked, barely able to take in the magnificent spectacle of all those precious treasures gathered in that one place, "Why should a robber wish to take a single sapphire and leave all of this behind?"

"We think that Cook interrupted him before he could finish." Gregson replied, although Holmes looked unconvinced.

"There is nowhere in this room that a robber could hide." Holmes replied, "To say that he would be in a hurry to escape this place with his prize is no stretch. All the same..."

For several moments, Holmes seemed to be deep in thought, as if he were trying to form a mental picture of the events that had occurred that night.

"How did he get away?" Holmes asked aloud at last.

"Through the window." Gregson insisted, but Holmes just shook his head quickly.

"If we are to follow your reasoning, Inspector, then two individuals would have needed to escape that hallway, rather than just one. How did the second individual escape? Surely, they did not attempt to climb down the severed rope."

Gregson seemed to flush a little, but he quickly replied, "We believe the robber's accomplice to be a member of the staff."

"In that case, I should like to ask a few questions of Cook and his staff; particularly his coachman, butler and the maid whom you suspect of being involved in this whole, abominable affair. Can that be arranged?"

"In moments," Gregson replied, "though I don't expect you to learn anything new, Mister Holmes. The facts of this case are as plain as day."

* * *

Indeed, it was less than five minutes before Holmes received and audience with Mister Cook himself in his sitting room downstairs. Cook was a medium-height, broad-shouldered man with side-whiskers like a naval officer. His thick, black hair, however, was anything but uniform, being somewhat long and shaggy. On the whole, he gave the impression of a wealthy, powerful man who was taking advantage of certain freedoms of appearance afforded him by his capitol. Gregson was standing by to observe the proceedings as Holmes addressed Cook directly.

"Mister Cook," Holmes said, "I am already fairly clear about the main facts of this case. What I want now is testimony from you on a few small particulars. First, you say that you were woken by a noise in the trophy room on the night of the theft."

"That's correct." Cook replied, looking satisfied with himself as he said it.

"What did you do when you heard that noise?" Holmes asked.

"I leapt out of bed at once." Cook replied, "I suspected a burglar, so I immediately unlocked the door to the trophy room and..."

"Pardon me a moment." Holmes said, "Is it your testimony that the trophy room door was locked when you reached it?"

"On my end, anyway." Cook clarified, "As I'm certain you've noticed already, there are two doors leading into the room, one of which is closest to my bedroom, and the other borders the southernmost stretch of the hallway."

"When you reached the door and found it locked, why did you not rush to the other door to attempt to head off the thief?"

"Because, Mister Holmes, I had only just woken past midnight after a long evening of hard work." Cook replied, starting to look a little irritable, "I failed to think of that course of action at the time, but I know of no man whose thoughts are at their sharpest when exhausted."

Holmes looked a little surprised by that reply, but he just nodded and donned a slightly apologetic expression.

"I mean no disrespect by asking these questions, Mister Cook, but I must know as much as possible about what happened."

"If it helps to recover my sapphire, you may ask whatever you wish." Cook remarked, his irritation fading to reveal a more reasonable disposition once again, much to my own relief, and the relief, I could plainly see, of Inspector Gregson, who had no desire to apologize on behalf of Holmes.

"You unlocked the door and entered the trophy room." Holmes continued, urging Cook on.

"I did." Cook replied, continuing his tale, "I saw no sign of the robber, but I ran on into the hallway beyond; the only possible direction of escape that might have been open to him, and there I found the window open and the broken rope outside."

"Until that point, you had seen no one?"

"Not a single soul, which shocked me, because I'd been certain that I was close on the heels of the robber. I rushed back into the trophy room, saw which item had been stolen and at once ran downstairs to wake the staff and organize a search before wiring to the police about the robbery."

"None of the staff were awake at the time?" Holmes asked, curiously.

"It was nearly three o'clock in the morning, Mister Holmes." the man replied with a offhanded look, "I could hardly have expected any of them to be awake. I may have been blessed with many possessions, but it would be wasteful to hire a night watchman for my own house."

"Indeed." Holmes admitted after just a moment, "I see no reason to keep you any longer, though I should like to speak with Miss Adler next, if you don't mind."

Cook nodded as he got to his feet. In just a moment, he'd left the room, and Irene Adler had entered through the doorway.

The diligent reader may recall the photograph that was given to my friend Holmes by the king of Bohemia as reward for services rendered in disarming the plans of Miss Adler, who, a short time later, became Mrs. Irene Norton. Due to her marriage and the changing of her name, Holmes seemed not to have considered that the Irene Adler who was serving as a maid in Lawrence Cook's house might be the same woman who had made such an impact on his mind, but whatever ill fate had led her to that place, the woman who stood in the doorway before us was indeed the same Irene Adler who had once given Holmes such a memorable obstacle to overcome, and outwitted him so well.

Only a few times during his famous career have I seen strong discomfort in the face of my friend, and yet, when Miss Adler appeared in that doorway, still looking precisely as she had in the photograph, I could see genuine shock and astonishment in Sherlock Holmes' expression. In a moment, that shock seemed to turn into sadness, then some slight anger. At last, he managed to compose himself and turned away from Miss Adler coldly, saying, "Apologies, Miss Adler. I will speak with the butler instead."

I have never had much difficulty in interpreting the feelings of women. In fact, I should say that it is one of the skills which I truly excel in, and there was no mistaking the disappointed expression on Irene Adler's face. She had taken Holmes' reaction somewhat badly; at least at first. Though I had never met Miss Adler in person before, I found myself feeling great sympathy on her behalf, but if Holmes himself felt anything of the kind, he had suppressed it entirely by that point.

Though I experienced some regret as I watched Miss Adler leave the room, I knew that I had to stand by my friend until the investigation was complete. It was just as well that I made that decision, however, since the butler had entered the room in moments, and Holmes had several questions for him to answer. However, for the first time, I began to find my friend's professional, efficient spirit just a bit horrifying.

The butler was a relatively young man; no more than thirty, dressed in a casual brown suit not unlike the one that I was wearing, though without a jacket to accompany it. He had thin, blond hair and an air about him that was almost as cold and efficient as the one that my friend projected.

"Good afternoon, Mister Holmes." the butler said quickly.

"Good afternoon, Mister Knowland." Holmes replied, having already been given the butler's name. His first name was Pierce, though in that discussion, there was no need for that knowledge.

"You don't mind answering a few questions about your master, do you?" Holmes asked innocently enough, though the butler showed no signs of being disturbed by the idea.

"About Mister Cook?" the butler asked, "No, though it seems unhelpful in this instance. Knowledge about Mister Cook himself, I mean."

"I assure you, it is extremely important that I know about him." Holmes replied with a wave of his hand, "Tell me. In your opinion, how was Mister Cook's temperament on average? Does he seem like a calm sort to you?"

Knowland seemed just a little suspicious of the question, but after only a short pause, he replied to it.

"As long as I've known Mister Cook, he seemed a man of great confidence. He... Well, he was a bit given to rages at times when something had particularly upset him, but this much I'll say for the man; he never let us see him in his rage. He'd lock himself up in his room until the rage subsided, and when he emerged, he'd be as calm a man as you ever saw in the world."

Holmes nodded his head quickly when Knowland said that and a sort of pleased smile seemed to be spreading across his face.

"Tell me..." Holmes said, looking very much amused, "Whose responsibility was it to handle Mister Cook's mail?"

"Well, it was his responsibility to open it," Knowland replied, "but I was the one who told him when it had arrived, and gave it to him."

"Did he ever let you read his letters, or read them with you in the room."

"No. Mister Cook believed in keeping his business and home lives separate."

"Yes. That's in keeping with my theory. One last question then, Mister Knowland. When Mister Cook had these rages you've spoken of, was it, on average, after the arrival of the mail? Do you think there might have been something in the mail that was upsetting him?"

"Yes, I should say there was." Knowland replied, "Mister Cook was a man who was easily concerned by political affairs, and he's been known to complain about one thing or another happening in the nation's government. The Times came by mail, so I should imagine that would give him a good deal to be angry over. I was never surprised to see him taking to his room after having leafed through that particular periodical."

"No. I can imagine not." Holmes replied, "It seems an innocent enough vice on the face of things, I admit. Thank you for your time, Mister Knowland. You may show the coachman in now."

The coachman was a short kind of man with a look of nervousness about him. He glanced at us in some obvious fear as he rushed to the center of the room, as if doing so would cause our interview to finish sooner. His hair was black and a bit unkempt, but rather shorter than Cook's, and his name was Arthur McDermott. On the whole, he gave an impression of a terrified animal caught by a hunter and backed into a corner. I have seen many suspicious characters in my life, but there was something about McDermott that inspired distrust in me.

"Good morning, Mister McDermott." Holmes said, "I'm going to ask you a couple of questions, and then you may leave. Tell me, first, whether you were sleeping in your quarters on the night when the sapphire was stolen."

"Yes. Yes, I was..." the man muttered nervously, "I sleep there every night."

"Your quarters is along the south wall. Is that correct?" Holmes asked.

"Yes." McDermott replied.

"What woke you up?" Holmes asked.

"The screaming of Cook, telling us all to wake and search the grounds for his sapphire." McDermott answered.

"Let us be absolutely clear on this. You heard nothing else? No sounds before that?"

"I was asleep before that, Mister Holmes, but there must have been very few other noises around, for I am a light sleeper."

"Thank you, Mister McDermott. Your testimony has been invaluable to me. My mind is now quite made up about this case, and I thank you for your time."

A look of great relief had passed across McDermott's face in that moment, and at once, he gave Holmes a brief bow and existed the room in a clear hurry.

"I found that most suspicious." I replied, but Holmes waved my observation off.

"The man has clearly never been interrogated on the subject of a crime before. Most men, in his place, would feel some natural nervousness over what happened, though he's had no feelings of suspicion himself. Mister McDermott will never be a great detective, but I doubt that he shall ever be a criminal either. His fear of authority is too great."

I was still at a loss what to think about the case, but I had to admit that Holmes' analysis of McDermott's character did sound accurate enough.

"So what do you think of that last testimony, Gregson?" Holmes asked.

"I think that man is not so light a sleeper as he claims to be, or else is involved in this whole mess." Gregson replied, "Really, Holmes. What other possibility is there?"

"There are always numerous possibilities to consider." Holmes said at last, "Before this investigation began, I recommended to you a study of the history of the Third Eye Sapphire. I now repeat that recommendation. You might find it most illuminating reading, though I fear that in this particular case, you will not have the triumph of an arrest. Come, Watson. There are a few things left to do, yet, before we return to London."

* * *

Holmes was very tight-lipped as we left the mansion and the grounds, but he made no effort to board a hansom. Instead, we walked for several minutes until we had reached the nearest building; a small gathering hall or club of some sort with a sturdy, wooden veranda along the front. On that veranda, there was a small tea table with several chairs that seemed quite inviting after we'd walked such a long distance. Holmes seemed to share my thoughts in that respect, because it was only a moment before he had seated himself in one of those chairs. It was several seconds after that before Holmes said anything about the whole affair.

"This has been a most interesting case, Watson, but I fear that it is somewhat more complex than most. You must remember the rare instances, in the past, when I have allowed a criminal to escape from justice because I believed that it would do no good to turn him in. I fear that this may be such a case. There are at least two levels of mischief at work here, Watson, one of which is criminal. Even so, I hesitate to surrender that criminal to the police. She has surely suffered enough already..."

"Then Miss Adler is the thief after all?" I asked, somewhat surprised, "I had certainly not expected that, Holmes. You seemed to be driving at the idea that Cook had stolen his own gem for some reason."

For a moment, I saw a look of disappointment flit across my friend's eye, but he shook it off shortly and spoke with some amusement.

"All of the evidence so far, my dear Watson, points to the undeniable fact that Lawrence Cook was indeed the culprit. I found that surprising and unlikely, at first. As the gem was his own possession, and was entirely uninsured against the risk of theft, there would be no illicit material gain that might arise from such a crime. Therefore, no true crime has been committed on his part. He has lied to the police and to myself about what happened, but that is hardly enough to merit an arrest. No, Watson. In spite of Cook's schemes, he is no criminal."

"But if he can gain nothing from such a deed, why would he do it? Is it merely for his own amusement? Is he truly willing to risk a public scandal for that?"

"No. I can think of only one possible reason why Lawrence Cook should wish to fool the public into thinking that a gemstone of his has recently been stolen; the same reason that he had for tying a rope to the roof outside his own window and making an indentation in the mud at its base."

At once, Holmes' conclusion dawned on me as well, and I voiced my thoughts aloud, astonished by the stunning, and yet simple truth of it.

"Cook wants someone to believe that the sapphire was stolen." I realized, "Some additional party in all of this."

"I am quite convinced that Cook has been in deathly fear of some person who knows that he possesses the Third Eye Sapphire." Holmes explained as I simply stared at him in awe, "What kind of danger he fears I can't say. Perhaps there is a danger to his life, or perhaps the gemstone was stolen by Cook himself in the past, or one of his ancestors, and the original owner wants to have it back without paying what it is worth. Whatever danger haunts the life of Mister Lawrence Cook, we can be certain that Miss Adler will not be able to keep her fingers clear of it. In fact, she has already played a part in his scheme. It was her outline at the base of the mansion's south wall. No doubt he paid her a handsome bonus for that bit of assistance on his behalf, and for her silence with respect to that night. However, that will not be enough for her. Whatever the specifics of her recent life, she has fallen on hard times, and she has attempted blackmail before. It would be too much to hope that she will not seize upon this opportunity to hang Lawrence Cook over the hungry jaws of his enemies. Given his great wealth, he has much that he could offer in exchange for her mercy, and he seems a reasonable enough man to not take more drastic action against her. I fear that Cook will be helpless against Miss Adler when she decides to play her hand. What I am not certain of is whether I should attempt to stop her."

I found that question a puzzling one, but I knew what my answer would have to be.

"We have acted against her in the past." I said, "There is no justice in preying on an innocent man, no matter what she has suffered or how much wealth he seems to possess. If you choose to take action against her, you shall have my full support. If, however, you know that she plans to commit a crime, and you take no action, I will respect your wishes in that as well."

"No. No, confound it!" Holmes exclaimed, striking his hands together as if in an attempt to wake himself from an early morning dreariness, "You're right, Watson! Whatever she may have suffered in the past, she might well be looking to blackmail an innocent man. I must do something about this. I know that she is an intelligent woman, so she will surely have realized that my refusal to speak with her before was for her sake; so that personal things might not be said in the company of the inspector. If she knows... She must know that I suspect her in this manner, so she will undoubtedly pursue me."

"Would she make some attempt to attack you?" I asked, but Holmes merely chuckled at the question.

"Watson, her mind is very sharp, but she is still limited in her upper body strength, and working in the capacity of a maid, she would hardly have enough money to purchase a revolver. No. If she pursues me, it will be to lay her story before me; either her real story or a fabrication, in some attempt to convince me of her goodwill or to take her side in this affair. There is still evidence that she could bring forth which might sway me. I am indebted to Inspector Gregson for having handed me so complex and interesting a case."

At that point, Holmes relaxed in his chair, but I admit that I was a bit disappointed by his reaction to Miss Adler's involvement. I knew that he had valued the role that she'd played in his life, though whether he'd valued it in admiration of a wonderful woman, or in simple appreciation of a worthy opponent, I hadn't been able to discern. Even as Holmes sat on that plain wooden chair on the club veranda, the true nature of his feelings for Miss Adler remained a mystery, and I cared too much for my friend to be content with such a large and central question surrounding him. In spite of the many complex and impressive methods of deduction that Sherlock Holmes had endeavored to teach me, that mystery of how he really felt about Miss Adler remained as great and impenetrable as ever. Even the brief smile that he displayed when he caught sight of her walking down the road towards us could have easily been interpreted in many different ways.

"Miss Adler..." Holmes said when she saw us and started to draw nearer to our position, "Have a seat. Let us discuss a few things now that we are safe from being overheard."

Irene Adler did indeed approach us as we sat on the veranda, but she didn't join us at first, instead glancing at me in suspicion.

"Should I assume that your friend Doctor Watson shares your confidentiality?" Miss Adler asked.

"Certainly." Holmes replied, "I trust him more than any man in the world. If there is call for confidentiality, he will certainly display it, as will I."

Miss Adler still looked a bit nervous, but she carefully seated herself at the table across from us.

"No doubt you've worked out Cook's scheme and his reasoning for deceiving the police." Irene said the moment she'd sat down without so much as a return greeting to myself or my friend.

"You give me, perhaps, too much credit." Holmes admitted, "I know little about the nature of the threat that looms over his head."

"So that much was obvious to you..." Irene observed aloud, "I admit to having discovered little more about the threat that you yourself presently know."

"Yet you intend to exploit it." Holmes observed. The remark seemed to have caught Miss Adler off her guard, but she recovered her composure quickly.

"What are you insinuating, Mister Holmes?"

"I have made no public insinuation at all. This is merely a private observation. I may, after all, be the only man on this Earth who knows the true nature of your character, Miss Adler. There is a large opportunity here for blackmail. Do you mean that you would pass up such a chance to regain some measure of your lost wealth?"

For a few moments, Miss Adler looked a bit impressed, though she still said nothing directly incriminating.

"I know that you are a clever man, Mister Holmes." Adler said at last, "No doubt you've realized already what happened to my husband and what I have been forced to do to attempt to recover from the blow. The world is not a kind place to women, Mister Holmes, and we must take what opportunities we can find. To regain security for my own life, I feel justified in taking certain steps."

"Do those steps include preying on an innocent man?"

"Really, Mister Holmes! I must object to the nature of that question."

"In which case, I must repeat it before an inspector of Scotland Yard."

"There is no threatening me, Mister Holmes. I have committed no crime."

"With a few words to Tobias Gregson, I can ensure that you continue on that path."

Miss Adler fell silent when Holmes said that, and I could tell that my friend has managed to earn a small victory over her in that argument. He knew that there was no case against her in the courts before she had attempted any sort of extortion, but even so, he could disrupt her plans for Lawrence Cook very handily if he so chose. She seemed to have grasped those facts fully, even before I did.

"Very well, Mister Holmes." Adler said, at last relaxing a bit more, "I will answer your question. The truth is that I have no desire to prey on any innocent man, or for that matter, on any guilty man, for I no longer believe that any man is innocent."

"You must have been betrayed then, by Godfrey Norton." Holmes concluded correctly.

"His name is no longer welcome to my ears." Miss Adler replied, "Even while we made plans to marry and escape London, on that day when I first encountered you, Mister Holmes, he had no loyalty to me, but I was so blinded by my love for him that I did not see the viper that lurked beneath his beautiful smile. The wealth that the king of Bohemia had given to me during our affair disappeared steadily in the three months that I was wed to Norton, until finally, I had not a cent to my name. He vanished once the money was gone, and I have been unable to trace his whereabouts, due, in part, to my own naiveté. I had not expected betrayal on his part."

"The fiend!" I couldn't help but exclaim, "Why, I should like to see him clapped in irons and put away for such a deed!"

"Are you so different, Doctor Watson?" Miss Adler asked grimly, "Would wealth not tempt you towards betraying those you love?"

"Real love means a great deal more than wealth." I replied, all the more angered by the question she'd just asked me, "I should not sacrifice Mary's love for all the treasure in a continent."

"However, wealth would have been a barrier to your love." Miss Adler replied, "You need not deny it. I have read your account of your first meeting with Mary. Men are easily tempted to do evil, because they seek control first, and cherish tender feelings only rarely. I have suffered much loss, and the betrayal of the two men whom I cared for most in the world, but it has taught me that, at least. I can trust no man with power over my livelihood, and I am quite convinced that no man is truly innocent."

"Regardless, if a man is not innocent, the proper course of action is to arrange his arrest..." Holmes replied with a shake of his head, "Would you betray Cook's trust, just as your own trust has been betrayed?"

That remark, however, seemed to have drawn a reaction from Miss Adler. She frowned, looking down at the wooden planks of the veranda, and was clearly discontented with the whole situation.

"Mister Holmes..." Adler said, "When I had nothing, Mister Cook gave me an opportunity to prove myself. I would prefer not to betray him for that reason alone, but I cannot go on in this way. In some manner, I must recover the wealth that I have lost. A mere fraction of what Cook has in his house alone might suffice, but so obvious a theft would be detected at once. Now, he has shown himself to have a weakness, and it is difficult to resist the temptation to take advantage of it. I know that from this moment on, that temptation will always be there if I do not act soon. Still, if I had the money to support myself, I would feel no temptation, but remaining at the mercy of another man is too much for me to bear."

"There may yet be a way to resolve all of our problems if I can obtain one last meeting with Cook." Holmes replied, "For the moment, I can only tell you to surrender yourself to no temptations, because you would not be successful in your schemes."

When my friend had said that, he got up and left the veranda, wishing Miss Adler good evening as he left. However, as we headed back up the road, towards the mansion once again, a look of fiery determination appeared in Holmes' eyes. I was astonished by that look, for he rarely adopted such an expression, except when he was exercising his full powers.

"She has hung me over a barrel this time, Watson." Holmes said once he was certain that we were out of earshot of Miss Adler, "She knows that I cannot be Cook's guardian angel forever, and if I leave this case alone, and do nothing to help her, then he will be in her clutches. However, in helping her, I endanger myself as well, and it will only be by a great effort that I might avoid placing myself in her power. I fear that I have only endangered you by inviting you out here, old friend."

"Is her plan truly so complete?" I asked, "Is there no other option?"

However, as soon as I asked those questions, the grim expression on the face of my friend began to fade, and a smile of hope started to cross his features again.

"Of course you're right, old friend." Holmes replied, "One must never give up hope, especially not at times such as these. I still have many advantages and resources to draw upon in this case. Thank you for your encouragement, but I fear that I will make unpleasant company for the next hour. I must consider the problem very carefully if I am to find some sure way out of it. Thank you again, Watson."

As Holmes had been speaking, I noticed that he had drawn a thick cigar from his coat pocket, along with a match and was lighting it as we walked. By the time we got back to the mansion, it was nearly halfway finished, although Holmes still clearly had much to ponder. At that time, he spoke to me again.

"Watson, I find myself in a complicated position. Though I am chagrined that we might be forced to part ways on this; our first day together in months, still, I can see no other alternative. I must ask you to return to Baker Street."

"Surely not for my safety, Mister Holmes." I objected.

"No. I should feel a good deal safer with yourself and your revolver at my side, in fact." Holmes replied, "However, I may have need of a pair of able hands in London, for the moment."

"Certainly." I agreed, "Just tell me what you wish me to do."

"Unfortunately, I do not yet know myself." he said, "However, I will wire to you with the details."

* * *

Needless to say, I found that reply disturbing, but I trusted my friend's judgment and went along with his game. I took a hansom back into London, re-entered our quarters in Baker Street and waited for Holmes' wire to arrive. However, as it turned out, I was destined to wait quite a while. It was several hours before I received the message from Holmes, telling me to immediately go to the library and look for information on a Lord Aalam Marasa, who was apparently a regional ruler in the middle east some four hundred years before. I couldn't for the life of me tell what that had to do with the case, but I got my hat and coat, and ran to the library as fast as I could, attempting to find the name in their records. The results of my search were hardly encouraging.

I searched for the name directly, at first, then for all kings and lords from around that time period, but still there was no one by that name. At last, I started looking through a few old legal documents, but the name never seemed to come up, and it had been several hours since I had started looking, so I immediately wired to Holmes that the name he'd asked me to find was impossibly lost. At that point, I returned to Baker Street.

However, when I got back to my friend's abode, I was shocked by the person that I found waiting for me. Irene Adler was waiting in the sitting room at Baker Street, looking a bit crestfallen. She stood up as I entered the room and gave me a short bow.

"I see that you have already carried out Mister Holmes' instructions." she said, "I am sorry to say, Doctor Watson, that this time, he has beaten me. I suppose there is no real fight between truth and falsehood, but still, I hoped that I might outwit him again."

I could hardly help finding her presence unnerving. After all that Holmes had told me, I knew her to be a clever and desperate woman with a clear end in mind, and I had no desire to place myself in her power by telling her more than she knew already.

"Holmes is a clever man." I said in a guarded voice.

"Indeed." she replied, "I have had occasion to respect his skill at his craft."

"I am afraid that I must ask you to leave." I said, casting aside politeness at last, "Holmes is not here, nor do you have business with me, I think."

"That much is true, at least," Adler replied, putting on her own hat and walking towards the door, "but I will return when Holmes does, as I'm certain he shall wish to speak with me."

Then, with those words hanging in the air like the seeds of a wildflower in spring, Miss Adler left my friend's apartment by the sitting room door.

I waited patiently for two more hours for a response to my wire, and a few minutes after the second hour had passed, Sherlock Holmes himself burst through the door, looking as pale as a dead man. I almost feared for his health when I saw him like that.

"Confound it!" Holmes exclaimed, "I must be the most contemptible idiot in all of London, Watson!"

"Certainly not!" I exclaimed just as adamantly.

"Again and again throughout this case, I have made the same mistake over and over; underestimating that woman. If not for your presence here in London, I might have gained no ground against her at all."

That, however, was when I knew that it was my duty to inform Holmes of what had transpired while he had been away, and when I told him about Miss Adler's visit to Baker Street, his expression, if anything, turned a bit paler.

"I regret taking this case, my dear Watson." Holmes said at last, leaning back in his seat, "Though I should not like to leave Mister Lawrence Cook at that woman's mercy, there are some things with which neither a man nor a woman should meddle, and I am only a man of flesh and blood. Though I have opposed evil much in the past, I do not think so highly of myself as to believe that I can challenge the source of evil, or any direct agents thereof. The supernatural is hardly within my jurisdiction."

"Supernatural?" I asked, amazed, "Holmes, you must explain that. What is it about Miss Adler that is supernatural? What unnatural force do you fear?"

For a moment, Holmes looked at me, thankful for the chance to take his mind off such matters and return his thoughts once more to an examination of the facts. At last, he spoke, and the color started gradually to return to his face.

"Miss Adler will be here in moments, so I will be brief. I met with Cook one last time and told him simply that his ploy would not be successful, and that he had placed himself in the grip of people who would not show him mercy; that their identity must be uncovered if I was to protect him. He needed no more encouraging than that to reveal the truth to me. Apparently, several letters had been sent to his estate; unmarked, of course, informing him that the Third Eye Sapphire rightfully belonged to a Hamest Marasa; descendant of Lord Aalam Marasa, whose family had owned it for many hundreds of years. The gemstone, according to the letter, had been stolen by a thief, later captured and brought to justice, but before he was apprehended, the thief had sold the gemstone to a group of wandering traders who were moving through the area. In short, Hamest insisted that the gemstone had actually been stolen goods for centuries, and demanded to have it returned freely in payment for a very old wrong. The first note insisted that the gemstone be placed in a specific spot in the country, inside a postbox a few miles distance from Cook's house, where Hamest's agent would retrieve it. However, Hamest insisted that matters would quickly turn ugly for Cook if the gemstone was not returned."

"After several more letters and some frightening occurrences, which showed Cook that he was indeed in some form of danger, he determined to plan out a scheme by which Hamest might be convinced that the gem was no longer in his possession. His only confidant throughout the entire process was Miss Adler, who showed him kindness and sympathy when he worried over the letters and even agreed to help him with his plan, asking for nothing in return. Cook himself planned out the blind, and as the idea of lying in the mud was repulsive to him, Miss Adler agreed to act out that part of the plan on his behalf. At last, the whole thing was done, but when I told him that I had seen through it, it drove a feeling of despair through the middle of his heart."

"Cook told me that he would give me anything if I would remove the danger from his life, at which point I asked him why he had not simply given up the gem, as the notes had suggested. He replied by saying that his pride as a man forbade it, and that like all men of his class, he was full of the fear of losing money to extortionists. I knew his type well enough to have predicted that, so I told him that I would do my best to handle the matter myself, but that if the worst should occur, he must be prepared to give his gemstone away."

"Cook seemed to accept that suggestion a good deal better than I would have expected. In fact, he told me that although the idea of losing such a valuable item made him miserable, the danger of his situation was far worse, and he was at his wit's end for a way to solve his problem. I admitted that he had indeed done all that a man in his position could do, and that I would do my best to put an end to the threat that hung over him."

"Of course, before I left, Cook made certain to tell me a few other things as well, such as his initial reasons for doubting the reality of the threats that hung over him. He told me that the very idea seemed ludicrous to him, as his ancestors had lived in that mansion for four generations and never needed to deal with such harassment before. That strengthened my suspicions against Miss Adler, but I grew certain of them when I received your wire and heard of her arrival here from you just a few minutes ago."

"But what are your suspicions, Holmes?" I asked, "I still fail to understand. You said that Miss Adler was..."

"Please, Watson. Let us not speak about it more than we must. If my hunch is right, she herself will arrive here shortly, and then we can discuss the issue in her presence. It pertains to her, after all, and it would be impolite to speak of the woman behind her back."

Very soon the door to our sitting room opened once more, and in stepped the cause of my friend's recent woes. Irene Adler looked just as calm and composed as always, but there was some sadness hidden in her posture.

"Sherlock Holmes. Doctor Watson." Miss Adler said with a short bow of her head to each of us, "Do either of you have the gemstone?"

"You will not receive that gemstone from my hands." Holmes replied.

"Then I take it that you are withdrawing your involvement in this particular case." Adler noted, to which Holmes replied with a nod.

"Absolutely," my friend said, "as are you, Miss Adler. You see, I have come to three very surprising realizations about you, two of which, I suspect, will be useful."

As soon as Holmes said that, the look of sadness in Irene Adler's face seemed to have grown, and I could tell that she at least suspected some of what Holmes was about to say.

"Close the windows and shut the blinds, Watson." Holmes said, "Thank you, my friend. Now, Miss Adler, the more that I have delved into this case, the more that I come to realize how badly I have underestimated your own involvement in it. When you said to me that you did not know the nature of the threat which menaced Cook, that was a lie. In fact, you knew it better than he did, because it was by you that the entire campaign was staged."

"Mister Holmes!" Adler exclaimed, but Sherlock Holmes just shook his head.

"There is no use in denying it, Miss Adler. I know it to be true. You wrote the letters to Cook, disguising your hand to make it seem masculine. You staged the attempts on his life, perhaps with the help of an accomplice, and yet he trusted you implicitly. He involved you in his every attempt to drive the phantom threat from his house. Not only do I know this, but I am now able to prove that Mister Aalam Marasa never existed, and with that piece of evidence in hand, the mystery of a stolen gemstone would quickly transform into a manhunt, or rather a woman-hunt, in search of a mysterious and clever blackmailer. With that accomplished, your plans for Mister Cook and his gemstone would be ruined."

For several seconds, blazing anger seemed to show on Adler's face, but at last, she calmed herself, and her impassive expression returned.

"Well done, Mister Holmes." Adler replied, "In this case, at least, it seems that you have routed me, but you know that the letters could never be traced to me. In legal terms, you can do nothing to harm me."

"No." Holmes admitted, "There is no solid case against you in the courts, but I wonder if Mister Cook would be as eager to retain your services as a maid once he realizes that you have kept your blindness from him."

Once again, the color started to drain from Miss Adler's face, and I admit that the assertion very much surprised me. I could barely believe that Miss Adler was blind, since she handled herself so well with neither cane nor guide dog of any sort, and she had always seemed to look at us while speaking. However, since Holmes had drawn my attention to it, I began to notice that Miss Adler's gaze, while firmly fixed upon my friend, was not entirely focused on him, as if she were looking through him, rather than at him. It was something that I would never had noticed if not for Holmes.

"So you've taken to blackmailing now, Mister Holmes?" Adler asked.

"So long as justice is done, I do what I must." Holmes replied sternly, "If I must take drastic action to save Mister Cook from you, I will not hesitate to use the evidence of your blindness to that effect."

"But how will you explain how well I have handled myself?" Miss Adler asked grimly.

"It will be your task to explain that, and a difficult task it will be at that." Holmes replied with a frown, "No one else will believe it at first, though the three of us in this room will know the truth."

"You can't know about..." Miss Adler said, putting one hand on her own throat as Holmes relaxed a bit in his chair.

"But I do, Miss Adler. The game is up. I do not know how you acquired so unique an ability, but you clearly have some supernatural means of predicting things which have not yet occurred."

"Mister Holmes..." Adler said, "Be reasonable. Surely, many have said the same about you."

"I do not arrive at this conclusion lightly," Holmes replied, "but there is no other possibility. I sent Doctor Watson to London to find information which might give me the power to disarm your plans, and you, in turn, followed him here, anticipating the errand that he was on. It is impossible that you could have acquired that information through any natural means. Only Watson and I knew of the errand at all, and you certainly had not followed us. You could not have overheard us, unless that is the true nature of your special talent. In that case, it seems no less supernatural that you should be able to hear what goes on from so great a distance away. However, I suspect that you merely have insight into future happenings; a truly supernatural talent. It gave you the insight that you needed to nullify the disadvantage of your blindness. It gave you the ability to draw up plans against Mister Cook. You knew those plans would succeed, since you had already foreseen their outcome. Furthermore, it gave you the chance to risk it all for the benefit of one last struggle with myself, and you encouraged Gregson to bring the case to my attention, though it seemed clear-cut to him, in order to set that struggle in motion. Your failure in that struggle, Miss Adler, is due to no fault of your own, though it does make it obvious that even your powers have their limits. Still, if you will acknowledge that failure, and if you will swear to do no further harm to Cook, I believe we may yet come to some manner of agreement."

At last, Miss Adler seemed to have given in, and collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking badly disappointed. I felt only astonishment at what had just been said. It was difficult to believe that at last, Holmes and I had come upon a case that had true, supernatural elements to it. I have always been something of a skeptic myself, but Holmes' reasoning held together well enough that I dared not question it. Few men indeed have unmasked more ghosts, monsters and fiery hounds of Hell than Sherlock Holmes, and yet he himself admitted to Miss Adler's strange power. There was nothing more to be said.

Finally, Miss Adler placed her hands on the armrests of the chair in which she sat and faced us, though she no longer tried to look at us. She knew that it was pointless to pretend that she could see in front of Sherlock Holmes.

"What manner of agreement would you make with me, Mister Holmes?" Adler asked.

"I have no ambitions to interfere with the will of the supernatural in this world." Holmes said calmly, "However, as I have already taken this case, I cannot help but feel a bit of sympathy for Mister Cook. I must ask that you never attempt to betray him again. You may leave his services, or you may stay with him, but do not attempt to take advantage of him."

Miss Adler looked sad, but she replied quickly, "It seems that I am left with no choice."

"In addition, in exchange for my silence, and the silence of my friend Doctor Watson, I should like you to explain one more thing to me." Holmes continued, "If you have the power to see into the future, why did you not use it to predict my ploy against you when we first met in the case of the Bohemian king?"

Miss Adler still looked discouraged, but she replied nonetheless, and did so with a note of respect in her voice.

"Very well, Mister Holmes. You deserve to know that much. I can answer that question in brief by saying that I lacked these powers at the time. I was still calm of mind and a good planner of tactics, but I had not yet gained the ability to see future happenings."

Holmes had looked very serious, and, unless I am much mistaken, a bit sad himself as he'd been talking with Miss Adler, but when she said that, he seemed to brighten up. She clearly noticed the change and continued to speak.

"When I told you that my last husband left me with all our money, fleeing from my presence, I was telling you the truth." Miss Adler said, "What I failed to tell you is that at least part of the reasons he used to support his foul deed were that I began to lose my eyesight as we stayed together, and I was beginning to gain insight into his personal life that he had preferred I not possess. By the time he left me, I knew all of his secrets; all the places he had gone, the wagers he had made; the criminals with whom he had associated. He knew of my ability to see into future times by that point, and he was terrified that my power might be used to compromise him or to bring his friends to ruin."

"How did you come to possess so unusual an ability?" Holmes asked in amazement, "Surely not by sorcery..."

"I honestly do not know how I came into possession of this power, Mister Holmes." Miss Adler replied, "I have done no soothsaying, no divination and no practicing with the occult, nor am I any more faithful in religion than an average English woman can be expected to be. I am no saint, to receive visions from God. I simply developed this ability over time as I lived with my last husband. Now, I see the myriad paths of future possibilities based upon my own decisions, and it is, unfortunately, all that I see. Attempting to predict more than a day in advance is a bit taxing. To predict more than a month ahead is truly difficult, and anything greater that three months comes to me only in moments of great inspiration. That is the nature and the limit of my ability. I suspect that this ability is not a supernatural one."

"Come now!" Holmes exclaimed with a chuckle, "You ask me to believe that it is not supernatural to predict the future?"

"There may be some aspects that are unnatural," Adler admitted, "but it may be that I am simply one of the things which has been talked about in recent journals of science; a mutant. I may simply be another step forward in the development of mankind. I have no proof of that, however, nor can I defend it, so for the moment, I must insist that I do not know what these powers are or how I have acquired them. I only know that I do, in fact, possess them."

For a few moments, Holmes seemed to be deep in thought again, as if making a sort of decision that was difficult for him, but at last, he spoke to Miss Adler in a somewhat tender voice.

"I would advise you, in that case, to commit no further crimes with it, though I suspect that you will not take my advice. However, if you absolutely must have wealth, I ask you to leave the London area if you can. Your presence in this area of the world complicates my own life considerably and forces me to continually question which cases I should take. I would prefer to be free to use my own judgment for that. My advice is that you take what little money you have and travel elsewhere. I should not like to hear that you have victimized a Londoner while I am still alive."

Miss Adler didn't reply to that aloud, however. She merely nodded her head and got to her feet, heading for the doorway.

"Once again you have shown me your talent, Mister Holmes." Adler said, "Although I have lost this little tussle of ours, I have enjoyed the chase."

"As have I." Holmes replied, though he was starting to look sad once again, "I cannot deny the enjoyment I have had from pitting my wits against you one last time, if only for a while, though I feel that any struggle against you now would be meaningless. Good day, Miss Adler, and good luck."

"Good day, Mister Holmes." Miss Adler replied a bit sadly. Then she departed through the sitting room door, and Holmes and I were left alone.

At that time, Holmes swore me to secrecy about Miss Adler's special gift. He said that I should only reveal the facts surrounding the case of the Third Eye Sapphire if Miss Adler should die or give us her personal consent, neither of which seem likely to happen in my own lifetime. It is for that reason that I have packaged the full writing of this case in the locked drawer of my desk, and if someone should stumble upon it, I bind them on their honor to reveal not a word of it to the public until Miss Irene Adler, the woman whom Sherlock Holmes respected, has died.


End file.
